


I Don't Mind

by Curiaso



Series: Mr. and Mrs. Holmes [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Confused John, F/M, M/M, Mention of John Watson/Mary, Mycroft IS the British Government, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curiaso/pseuds/Curiaso
Summary: A 5 times story. 4 times John Watson met Matilda Holmes, and 1 time he realized who she actually was.





	

Disclaimer: I don’t own Sherlock. 

 

Matilda is a very tall, thin, middle-aged woman, with hair that is entirely gray, and a face that is sharp and bird like. She is beautiful, in the same alien way that many consider Sherlock to be. She wears a multitude of different styles, but most commonly, a pencil skirt with some shade of blouse and a mid-length wool coat the color of Afghanistan Sand. John has met her a total of 4 times, and it is not till the 5th that he realizes who she is. 

 

First

 

John had gone out, on a simple café date with a semi-attractive woman and he is feeling lighthearted and glad as a result. They had spoken about normal things, and Sherlock’s name had only been mentioned twice, once when asked where John lived, and once when he explained who he lived with.

 

He climbs the stairs with more bounce in his step than usual, and does not realize Sherlock has a guest till he has not only put the kettle on, but also flipped through the mail. He turns into the living room, about to ask if Sherlock had paid the electrical bill, and sitting on the “client chair” is a woman with cheekbones that rival Sherlock’s. Her eyes are similar to his in the way that they are unusual, but rather than green-blue, they are a silver-gray that is incredibly piercing. John can’t speak for a brief moment, before he regains this very important ability and introduces himself. She rises from the chair, smiles with closed lips, takes his offered hand, and speaks. 

 

“Matilda. A pleasure to meet you Doctor Watson.” She’s taller than him, in fact she may even be Sherlock’s height.

 

She leaves not five minutes later and when John asks who she was, Sherlock replies with a clipped tone. 

 

“Client.” 

 

Second

 

John has had a very long day. It had begun with a small child vomiting on his new shoes, and had ended with an elderly man in need of a helping hand with pulling something out of his rectum. Overall, a shit day. The thought of tea, crap telly, and some takeaway was one of absolute delight. He’d come home, to raised voices, one clearly Sherlock’s and the other the shrill voice of a woman, who was certainly not Mrs. Hudson. John hurried up the stairs. 

 

“I’m NOT going to!” Sherlock’s eyes were blazing, his neck stretched strenuously toward the woman he was yelling at, as if to further how serious he was about not doing whatever it was he was refusing to do. 

 

“For GOD’S sake, just BLOODY WELL do IT!” The woman, John now realized, was the same as a few months prior. However, this time she wore no pleasant smiles. Only a scowl that reminded him bizarrely of a principal he’d had as a child, Mrs. Espanol, whose gaze could stop any trouble making child in their tracks. 

 

They both, comically, faced him when he loudly cleared his throat. The woman, Matilda, smoothed her expression, setting it to a pleasant smile. “John, excuse the ruckus. I’ll be leaving.” She turned back to Sherlock, her smile falling immediately. 

 

“I expect to hear you've done it, and in full.” She left with slow, calm strides. As she passed, she lay a slim fingered hand on John’s arm. “Good day to you John.” 

 

It wasn't till the front door could be heard snicking shut that John raised an eyebrow to Sherlock. 

 

“Nothing. Client” Sherlock's swanned away into his bedroom, and slammed the door shut before John could respond, leaving the Doctor standing awkwardly alone, with nothing but the hiss of boiling water to keep him company. 

 

Third

 

Sherlock and John were researching through the night. It was boring, but with tea, and a few small naps, John was able to survive through it. Mary had signed off on him staying the night, but he was beginning to regret even coming. Sherlock had been back only 5 weeks, and John was slowly getting used to the idea that his best friend wasn't in fact dead. But there were still moments when john would find a sudden hatred rise up in his chest, for all Sherlock had put him through. 

 

During one of John’s mini-naps, his dreams included a large grape and a small orange, speaking in hushed tones about what they were meant to do about someone called “Mikerot”. Upon waking John realized it was not in fact fruit, but rather the gray haired woman, Matilda, and Sherlock. He sat up quickly, embarrassed to be seen sleeping by someone who was essentially a stranger. As he did so, he noticed someone had lain a fleece blanket over his form. 

 

Matilda looked awful, aged more than she had been, but also dressed far more casually. Bags rested beneath her bloodshot eyes. John had the urge to go over to where they stood and give her a brief exam. When she noticed John had awoken she smiled at him. “Sorry to wake you John, it was not my intention.” He waved a hand, standing and walking over. 

 

‘It’s fine. Are you alright?” He didn't know this woman, but if she was a client, then she was coming for help. And John, instinctively, was a helper. 

 

She looked down, but continued smiling nevertheless. 

 

“Yes, perfectly fine.” She left soon after, leaving only a meaningful look into Sherlock’s eyes, and a wave to John. 

 

“Sherlock, why has she come here… what, three times now?” Sherlock sighed. 

 

“Nothing to worry over, John. Just…. Keep researching.” 

 

John didn't take another nap that night. 

 

Fourth

 

They were kissing. Sherlock’s hands rested on his shoulder blades, and the heat from them warmed John to the core. It wasn't the nicest kiss he’d had, the neatest, or the sexiest…. But it was the best, regardless of any other qualities. 

 

They’d been briefly kidnapped, Mycroft had been involved in their rescue, and then they had solved the murders and hurried home. But John had very nearly died, and it must have done something to Sherlock, because as soon as they were inside the alcove of 221b, he had his hands (huge, huge hands, the size of John’s entire face) gripping him close, and lips (beautiful, cupid-bow lips) all over John’s own.

 

Sherlock pulled away, about to speak, when the tall form of Matilda came through the entrance. They had not locked it, couldn't have in Sherlock’s rush to kiss, and so she had no need for a key. 

 

Her hollowed cheeks tinted pink. Her eyes widened, and even through the fog of happiness John felt, he noted that she looked better than the last time he’d seen her.

 

“Oh dear-I”m-” She rushed out, the door slamming with her desperate need to get out. John worried. 

 

“Did she need somethi- Mmm” Sherlock was kissing him again. 

 

“No” the smack of lip on lip echoed in John’s head, “She’s fine.” 

 

Fifth

 

They were getting married. John’s first marriage had yielded a baby that wasn't his, and a wife that wasn't who he thought she was. This time, John was sure, his spouse, his husband, would yield joy, and nothing but. 

 

The ceremony had been small, and John had not noticed a single person in the crowd. Not Harry, nor Mycroft, not Lestrade, or Molly. Even Mrs. Hudson’s large feathered hat wasn’t noticed by him. Sherlock, in his tuxedo, top hat, and glistening eyes, was all John had bothered with the entire time. It wasn't till after, when the guests all gathered around them to wish congratulations, did John notice someone besides Sherlock, and that was Matilda. 

 

She came up and gave him a warm hug after Molly had done the exact same. “Hello John, So happy to welcome you into the family!” He spluttered, looking between Sherlock and the tall woman. Could they be siblings? Did Sherlock have a sister he’d never spoken of? Hadn’t he said she was just a client? It was possible. Sherlock was notorious for never telling him things that “weren't important”. Not only that, but the two did look semi-similar. 

 

Mycroft shook his hand, while John’s face continued to display confusion. “Sherlock assured me you wouldn't mind-” The British Government spoke with a smile far more real than John had ever seen him display before, “I’ve brought my wife as guest.” 

 

John turned to the woman. So this was…. Mycroft’s wife!? Mycroft had a wife!? Her silver gaze watched him, her smile upturned. She towered over both him and the other two men in her tall heels. She wore a simple fitted black dress, and her hair was twisted up into an elegant bun. Mycroft wrapped a suited arm around her waist. Yes, John thought, I suppose they do make sense. Birdlike and watchful, the both of them. 

 

“No” John shook his head, pointing a playful glare at Sherlock, who seemed to see nothing wrong at all. John couldn't find it in himself to be angry. This was Sherlock, he’d always have quirks that irritated John, but… He supposed so long as he could have the love of his life, what did it matter? “I don’t mind. Not at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, consider leaving a Kudos. If you want to, leave a Comment to brighten my day, and if you think you'll be looking for this fic again, consider Bookmarking so you'll never loose it! Have a great day!


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